Johnlock
by GamesGirls
Summary: Warning: Johnlock John/Sherlock John says no, but will he change his mind?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sherlock was watching him again. John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but when he looked up at the detective, Sherlock was engaged in reading his book, stirring his tea with the sugar spoon. John sighed and returned his attention to his own drink. Almost immediately, he shivered as Sherlock's eyes rested on him once more. John closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a minute, before looking at Sherlock again.  
"Why are you staring at me?" he demanded, irritated. Sherlock didn't look up from his book.  
"Staring, John? Since when have I been staring at you?" John didn't reply, and they continued to sit in silence. Then… "John?"  
"Yes, Sherlock?"  
"Never mind."

A minute passed, then Sherlock stood.  
"Well, John. It was lovely to have a drink with you. Now, must be going." He started to pull on his coat when John's hand rested on his shoulder. The consulting detective froze, as if he knew what was coming next.  
"Yes, John?" He said over his shoulder, reluctant to look at the old soldier. John walked round so that they were face to face.  
"Why did you come here?" Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but John held up a hand, warning him not to speak. "It wasn't just to have a drink, was it?" Sherlock shook his head slowly. "Then why?" John's face was mere inches from his as Sherlock took a deep breath.  
"I needed to say something to you." He bit his lip and looked at the floor, then continued, mumbling, "I… I love you. Always have, and I always will."

John stood before him, dumbstruck, his hand falling from the detective's shoulder while his brain tried to process the information. After a minute, he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, obviously distressed. Sherlock bit his lip again as he waited for an answer, if there was one forthcoming.  
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but… no." Sherlock nodded and shrugged his coat on. He turned away, but not fast enough. John saw a tear trickle down his old friend's cheek. He reached out, calling, but Sherlock was already halfway to the door. A cold gust of wind blew through the café as walked out without a backwards glance, into the snow. The door shut firmly behind the detective, setting the wreath swinging. John sighed, and his arm fell, and, after paying for their drinks, he returned to the surgery.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N. Sorry I've been away for so long, guys. Anyway. New chapter here! I'm sorry if they're short, I'm just not very good at long chapters. Anyway. Enjoy! **

Later, John returned to 221B Baker Street, worried about Sherlock, and the deadly silence from the flat did not bear good news. Sherlock wasn't home, and hadn't been since he had met John in the café that morning.

Hours later, Sherlock still wasn't home, and it was getting dark. John sighed and pulled out his pone. No new messages. The same it had been the last time he had checked, around two minutes ago. Nervously, he started to write a new message.

Somewhere, out in the harsh blizzard that had been soft flakes of snow an hour ago, Sherlock stood shivering, but resolute. He would show Mycroft. Bully that he was. A sharp buzzing jolted him back from unpleasant memories. He forced his frozen fingers to open the text.  
'Come home. JW.' Sherlock glowered and was deleting the text when another message arrived, causing the phone to vibrate again, almost making him drop the slim object. Biting back a curse, he opened the new text.  
'Please. JW.'

The door slammed downstairs and John smiled in satisfaction. A tousle haired Sherlock stormed upstairs and into the living room. He grabbed the skull from the mantelpiece and collapsed into the armchair in front of the TV. "So I've been replaced, have I?" John joked. After a few more minutes of the blogger's attempted conversation, Sherlock threw down the skull and stormed off to his room. John sighed and followed. Knocking on Sherlock's door, he called out,  
"Sherlock? You okay?" No reply came.  
"Sherlock?" still no reply. John wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and twisted, opening the door. He had never seen a sight like this.

**A/N. I know, horrible cliffy, but I need to dash now, and do more work. I'll try and update again sooner, I promise! GG xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was curled up into a ball, sobbing quietly, tears streaming down his face. John hesitated, but only for a second. By the time the door had closed, he was already by Sherlock's side.  
"Sherlock. It's me. It's okay. Shh." Sherlock's sobs subsided but the flow of tears continued. John wiped the tears away with the back of his hand and rubbed soothing circles into Sherlock's back. Sherlock melted into the touch and relaxed, the tears slowly halting.  
"What's wrong?" John asked, still rubbing circles. Sherlock ignored him.  
"Sherlock!" John sighed and moved so that he was facing Sherlock, shifting when the other man turned away.  
"Sherlock, please!" The other stopped moving. John faced him once more, though the younger did not meet his eyes.  
"Look at me, Sherlock." Slowly, their eyes met. For Sherlock, John was too close. Unbearably close. So close they could have…

Sherlock moaned a single word as their lips met, soft and warm. His eyelids fluttered as their lips parted, tongues dancing. Each man fought for the upper hand, and, all too soon, it was over. Sherlock lay back, panting, gasping for air. John watched him warily, scared of what he'd done.  
"Sherlock?" He was the first to speak. Fierce eyes fixed on him, burning with desire. Strong, wiry arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer.  
"I'd never replace you." Sherlock murmured in his ear, kissing the old soldier's cheek.  
"Are you going to tell me why you're upset?" John tried. Sherlock swallowed hard and nodded.  
"Mycroft." John motioned for him to continue. Sherlock took a deep breath and began.

A/N. Okay, I've got to go to band now, so I leave you here! Thanks to my friend Ellie, who urged me to post this! This is dedicated to you! Enjoy the coupling… :D GG x


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